Be Inspired
by Jaxolelady
Summary: Fanfic Based on the bloggings of Betty in the aftermath of leaving New York and Daniel. Very DETTY with some flashbacks of deleted scenes.
1. Chapter 1

April 16, 2010- 2:00 AM

**I Believe in Ghosts**

So, as all of you know I have made a major transition! I am now the Managing Editor at an up-in-coming magazine based out of London. The decision to move was hard, but with the love of family and friends I was able to move forward. The transition from New York to London has been just as challenging and full of mishaps, as my original splash into publishing in 2006 at Meade Publishing.

I miss my family, ALL of my family, from my papi and sisters (_yes I mean BOTH of my sisters:)_, to my surrogant mother-to my annoying yet LOVING and totally fashionable brother; my intelligent, beautiful and loving nephew. I miss them all. It is like I left a piece of me in New York, but a good piece, a happy piece.

I left my mark.

London is full of ghosts-the really, really scary kind. The kind that only come out at night, when everything around you settles and your mind begins to wander. The kind that leave you in peace during the day, but shatter your heart into a million pieces over and over again at night. The kind that leave broken and sweating with tears clouding your eyes, and a thousand tiny needles all over your body.

Those ghosts, those scary, scary ghosts; they leave you shaken in middle of night-reaching grabbing for the one thing that you had firm in your grasp but let slip away. These ghosts they invade your dreams, replaying a million conversations over and over again; a million scenes.

These dreams will never leave me. They surround me like steel blue mist, silky strands of hair, and the thump of a heart beat never forgotten. They are the ghosts of my mind, showing me the life I could of had-had I not been blind to what was right in front of me.

They are merciful it seems, allowing me peace during the day at least, so that I might pursue my dream.

But he was always merciful to me.

* * *

><p><strong>Broadwayboy: <strong>AB I am calling you right now. Pick the phone up you are scaring me.

**DanAlandTysMom:** I will have you know I set this name up to specifically say this: I love you, you are my daughter in all ways that matter. He will come around, and when he does, reading this will kill him. Now go to sleep young lady.

**MandyPandy**: OMG, B, please hit up mine or Tyler's cell. P.S. I will kill him a thousand times over for making you feel this way.

**IgnacioRules**: When you are done speaking with Justin, please call me.

**ABomb**: Bbomb, I love you girl.

**Bettyhead202:** Yea girl we got your back.

**Modey4life**: I have a well prepared list from my Patty Huerst days that I am keeping just in case. Let me know

**PrettyinPink**: We love you!

**Anonymous:** Who are you talking about here? Did you meet someone already?

** Re: Anonymous: Hildastyles:** Back off of my sister, okay? We are from the block, I will not hesitate to cut of a bitch!

**Heartbreaking12**: I am getting over an ex as well, I feel your pain.

**PJspaulding:** "Surrounds you like steel blue mists?" Hmmm...I was in your poetry class at QBC..I know what that means. Keep your head up, we are all rooting for you.

**UglyBetty:** Thank you everyone. I love you all as well.


	2. Chapter 2

April 17, 2010-2:00 AM

**Dreams Like Life**

Getting together the first issue of my magazine is coming along so swiftly, it's unimaginable. I've only been here a week and though my days are filled with meeting advertisers, accountants, writers and ect. I never thought the concept for the first issue would come together so quickly. It's going to be everything I've ever wanted my magazine to be.

It's going to be inspiring.

It's funny how the past can suddenly be in your face without you wanting - or even considering the possibility. I mean, what are the odds that after everything, I'd run into her in London? And while grocery shopping no less.

I couldn't even bring myself to be angry with her; all things considered, are we so different? I thought she ripped his heart out three years ago, and on national television, but no she and I, we are on the same level.

So I approached her, and re-introduced myself. I smiled through the shock (seriously was I really that much different with different glasses and braces?), and actually sat down with her and talked. I couldn't help to think though, the whole time she was going on and on about her new book, that she was the driving force behind our first date.

A slice, Karoke, Sonny and Cher, the stolen wedding cake he brushed off my face and licked off his finger and a million lights in the city made brighter by the even lightening sky. A promise, to meet again on that same bridge, to call him if I ever came. A promise that he broke the night before I left.

But who could blame him.

So, I can't be mad at her anymore. She is the reason I have these memories tucked so tightly inside of me. She was one of the driving forces behind _US_. I can only smile and make appropriate chit chat. Until she asks about him, of course.

And then I remember. This ruthless, coward of a writer and a woman; this person that needs tricks and bright bold coloring to sell her words, is nothing like me. Her taint never helped or hindered our friendship.

So it was with clipped words that I left her staring at me in shock. I've always wanted to make a dramatic exit.

I mentioned before that I am able to function in the day, in a working capacity at least, but at night it is like I am stuck in a rerun of the last four years of my life. I've been having these dreams, they feel so real. I can actually feel him, touch him, and talk to him. When I open my mouth to tell him the one thing I should have figured out a long time ago, but have only worked out recently, I wake up.

It's frustrating.

In one dream I am in my damn red poncho, the one I once thought fashionable enough to wear to Mode, and I am running down the tube to the conference room, and I smash into the clear glass doors, landing on my back (that may or may not have really happened in life). Suddenly he's all around me, his smell, his voice, his eyes are looking down at me in concern. He reaches down and helps me up, and then in a surprising turn of events, invades my space in a way he never did in real life. Touches my cheek, and leans down and kisses me.

I know the human mind is an amazing thing. I remember the way his lips felt, he's kissed my forehead countless times, he's hugged me before. I know exactly what it feels like to wrap my arms around his waist. I know what his eyes look like up close. I experienced all of these things in a different way. Without the awareness that I have in a simple dream.

When I look up at him, into his eyes, god I'm lost. I'm lost in a dream. I'm lost in the blue, drowning. I open my mouth to tell him and suddenly I am awake.

This has happened over and over again. It doesn't seem fair, but then again maybe I should be happy that I held for a little while in my life and move on from it.

* * *

><p>Betty published her latest entry into her blog and then shut computer down. She didn't want to know what everyone would make of her sudden need to about Daniel. They were all concerned, as they should be, but what they didn't understand was that she was working through her feeling for him.<p>

She couldn't believe how blind she's been all these years, and then she remembered something her papi told her the night she got her braces off. She has just removed her last piece of amour, now they could see the real her. Now she was open and vulnerable in a way she had not been before.

Now came the hard part.

Is it possible that somehow she had formed the greatest love with her best friend all these years and had been so hell bent on pursuing her dream that the possibility of a relationship or anything else was put behind a blinder?

Because she was certain now, after all these years, through all of this pain, she was certain. Daniel was the love of her life.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN- I was going to start including replies from people reading her blog, but instead I am going to slowly to incorporating her reaction to THEIR reaction? Does that make sense?**_

_**Thanks to the two people that reviewed. I appreciate you!**_


	3. Chapter 3

April 18, 2010-3:00 AM

**Am I Fashionable Now?**

More progress on the magazine, more, and more. I am good at this, I can own that. Dunne Publishing is very happy with me.

Have you ever heard of the Andrew Belle song "In my veins"? I listen to that over and over again.

_Oh, you're in my veins,_  
><em>And I cannot get you out.<em>  
><em>Oh, you're all I taste<em>  
><em>At night inside of my mouth.<em>  
><em>Oh, you run away,<em>  
><em>Cause I am not what you found.<em>  
><em>Oh, you're in my veins,<em>  
><em>And I cannot get you out.<em>

Sometimes I feel like he wrote that especially for me. It's strange how a song can so perfectly describe what a person is going through, without ever even knowing the person. The dreams are continuing, though I hate admit it, I am content with them. At least I have him in some capacity, and I am not limited in what is and is not okay.

I used to believe that with the support of my family and friends, and with my best friend at my side, I could do anything. I could get all of my dreams. Now I have everything I want, but not what I need.

He won't even answer my calls.

My entire life I was known as a quiet girl. Nice, but shy and quiet. My mother told me that she saw a light inside of me, bright like rays of sunshine peeking through clouds. She said that someday I would meet someone, and those rays would burst forth, and there would be no stopping me. I would be a force.

I thought it was my mother's cheesy way of telling me I was beautiful, on the inside. Now I feel differently. The first time I ever saw the real him, was one of the lowest moments in my life. Total embarrassment in front of all of those beautiful people, and with an outfit to match no less. He told them to stop, I heard him and I thought _I can take his abuse, but I will not take his pity . _So I ran, and god he stopped me, it was the first time I was so close to the blue.

He looked like he wanted to cry, and god I wanted to cry. That's what would have usually happened, I would have been choked on my words and the tears would have fallen. But this time, this time I felt something break away from me. I was in the blue and some sort of wicked calm came over me, and the words exploded from my chest.

I screamed at him that this was what he wanted, called him on his bullshit, and challenged him on his behavior. We were both stunned, chests heaving, before I turned away and ran back to safety of my family.

It was strange, but from that moment on I had no problem standing up for myself, against him or anyone else. In fact, I would have gotten back with my scum sucking boyfriend, would have jumped the minute he crooked his finger. I would have given away all of my dreams if I had never found the blue, and now that I was in it. I was brave, and smart, and sometimes I even felt beautiful.

Since I've been in London, 56 people have told me I am beautiful. Yes, I counted. I suppose I am fashionable now, my hair and body are more sleek. I've lost some weight, not a good loss, an I-cant-eat-because-almost-every-food-I-eat-reminds-me-of-him. Everything tastes like sawdust, I eat so I won't pass out. There is no joy. My clothes are, for lack of better words, less bright. Mostly gray and black. I have two bright coat that I brought with me from New York, and when the ghosts from the night threaten to take over the day, I wear them.

My grandmother once told me to fight for the man I love, but I don't know how to fight. I feel so weak, like I don't know how to move forward, or backward.

I am out of the blue.

* * *

><p>After she published her latest blog entry, she changed screens to check her messages.<p>

300 new comments. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. She knows now that people are starting to connect the dots, but still she doesn't care. This is the only way she can let it all go, the weight of these feelings, these memories are dragging her down.

She owes it herself to at least try to move past Daniel.


	4. Chapter 4

April 19, 2010

**The parade of the Ex-boyfriends**

Finally, a name for my magazine. Seriously, from the comments left on my last post I think you guys are starting to believe I made all this up. So finally, after many weeks of deliberation and meeting with my EIC, we have come up with a title:

**_Spark_**

****Mr. Dunne let me take the lead on this, really he's letting me take the lead on most of the creative process of putting the magazine together. I can never be more grateful for the opportunity.

I chose the name Spark, because I want to be a creative force in someone's life. Even if it is just a friendless, uncoordinated chubby little girl from a small corner of the world. I want to spark a desire, light fire to an interest, give hope in an otherwise hopeless place. I want to deliver foreign worlds into the hands of everyone. Do you know how powerful that is? To be able to actual help shape a mind, to cast light into dark corners of an imagination. To show someone that no matter where you start in life, the finish line is up to you.

So in a nutshell, you have Spark. I hope everyone reads it, and enjoys it.

I had the strangest series of dreams, or I'm not even sure if it was a series. It was more like an endless replaying of my past relationships. There's boyfriend that had little respect for me or my wishes, but really was just about holding onto me so that he wouldn't have to be alone. No, wait that's unfair, we both held on to each other so we wouldn't have to be alone. There's my first love, he actually desired the Betty that I was, he loved me for me and made no bones about it. It didn't work out for us because the timing just wasn't right, and though I loved him, even when I was with him it was hard to imagine a future beyond the moment. There was the boyfriend that was, quite frankly, more heavy on the friend. I felt such a deep affection for him, and his ability to see through my crap and call me on it. Plus, he was actually one of the few men I was not self conscience eating in front of- definite plus for him. Then there was the reformed player, millionaire boyfriend, who also happened to be my boss. I loved him, but now I've come to realize that we were better as friends than anything else.

In my dream they were ringed around me, forming a semi-circle, pressing in on me and then they began to spin. I didn't spin with them, but the spun around me, and I was so scared and confused and I squeezed my eyes shut and then suddenly everything stopped. I couldn't feel one iota of movement, so I opened my eyes.

And there he was. My heart, my heart actually hurt at the sight of him. How is it that I never noticed before how tall he was? How is it that I missed leashed strength of his arms and the slow even way he walked?

But I digress. He moved toward me, slowly, watching me as though I might disappear in front of him. For each step he took toward me, I backed up a step, until I bumped into a wall that I had not even realized was there. He pressed in on me, until he was right in my face, pulling me into the blue. I think I could actually feel his body heat.

I didn't know you could feel body heat in a dream, but apparently I can. He just stared at me, as the words from his BLOBBY speech began to flow around us like music.

_"This woman I adore.."_

He pressed his forehead against mine.

_"Intimidates the hell out of me.."_

His lips tip up, into one of his classic self defeating smiles.

_"She is like sunshine"_

His nose bumps against mine.

_"Unlike anyone else that I have ever know.."_

His lips slide against mine and I am on fire, I am all but melting into a little puddle at his feet. Apparently, the dream me doesn't hold back! I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him toward me. We are belly to hip now, knees touching. I lean back a little and start to tell him exactly how I feel.

And then I woke up.

This is how all of my dreams go, a never ending cycle of unfulfilled promise. That's all I have left, unfulfilled promise. Is there any relationship better than the one with your other half?

As I sit here recounting that dream I have to wonder what it means. My mind is crazy at times, maybe it just means that I miss him, or maybe it means something deeper. Am I comparing every man I've had in my life to him? Is he an ultimate culmination of everything I hated in each of my ex's? Or is it just the opposite, does he encompass every quality I've ever wanted in a man, and more.

I feel like I'm putting together a weird puzzle, and each time I find a piece I realize there is a piece missing.

I just wish he would answer the phone so I can put it all together.

* * *

><p>Betty let out a deep sigh as she uploaded her latest rantings. She rested her head on the keyboard of her laptop and took a deep breath. The lump in her throat that had been her constant friend for the last 9 days would not ease up. She felt tears threaten, so she quickly sat up and slammed the laptop closed. Rising from her chair, she began to pace back and forth.<p>

She wrapped her arms around herself and then stopped in the middle of the room. She took slow deep breaths to fight back the tears. It wouldn't due to cry, it wouldn't due to cry she repeatedly chanted to herself. While she knew writing her blog was a sort of therapy, it also brought up the emotions very close to the surface.

Even as she felt the first tears prickling the corners of her eyes, she denied it. Her arms squeezed tighter as the first sob racked her body. She began pacing again, her small feet moving quickly on the floor. If she kept moving, she thought, everything would fine, the pain would ease and she would be able to breath again.

On her second trip to the coffee table she spyed her cell phone, she paused for a moment while considering her options. She could call, leave another message. She could text him. That might be easier.

Her phone was in her hand before she could talk herself out of it, she was dialing his number she could take her next breath. She listened to his line ring, trying to master her breathing. After 30 tense seconds, his line picked up.

"Hello?", she said quietly into the phone. When she got no response she pulled the phone away from her ear and looked down at the display. Noting that the call was in fact connected she put the phone back to her ear.

"Hello...D Daniel?" she whispered quietly.

She couldn't hear anything on the other end, but the call was still connected so she knew someone was there.

"Daniel", she started again, her voice gravely, "I..I was just calling because, I feel like I've had a hole punched in my chest Daniel." She cleared her throat and charged forward.

"I miss you, so much, and I don't know what to do. I know I was wrong, I know I should have told you. Please don't hate me", her voice was starting to crack again so she took a deep breath.

"You've probably been reading my blogs, and I know it's all probably very confusing to you. I'm not trying to force you into anything, I'm just trying to work through everything, and it seems that it is all too much and I have to purge it; but then again you probably hate for that too."

"Daniel..." she whimpered quietly because still he had not said anything to her. She could not take it anymore, she simply disconnected the call. Her legs couldn't hold hold her any more so she sank unabashedly to the floor and cried.


	5. Chapter 5

April 22, 2010-2:00 AM

**Retail Therapy. **

I never really liked to shop before moving to London. Mostly, it was a lack of funds. How much fun is shopping when you cannot actually shop? In the world of MODE, I'd heard the term "retail therapy" thrown around often, however, I never engaged.

Today, finally, I engaged. Locked and loaded. I shopped my arse (British slang!) off. Dover street market is the most amazing place! You will not believe the shops! All of my friends at MODE will be joyous to know that there was not a pattern in the bags that I walked away; well, okay there was sort of one pattern. These incredible D&G stilettos I found. They are nude and black polka dot. I just couldn't resist.

I didn't think about him all day. Okay, that's a lie cause seriously there hasn't been ANY time that I wasn't thinking about him in some way for the last four years. Now I sound completely pathetic, but it just is what it is.

I am pathetic when it comes to him.

So I'm in my happy place, surrounded by this shopping euphoria, when suddenly I realize where I am walking.

I was walking on that exact same street almost two months ago with an old friend. Really, it was in that moment, walking down that exact same street that I really made the decision to leave_ HIM. _

I knew fashion wasn't my path, no matter how good it has been to me. I knew that one day I would have to step away from it to pursue my dreams. I want to write about thoughtful subjects, abstract world views. I wanted my words to impact someone's life, and make a difference.

Looking back, I suppose my alien-like view of the fashion world was biased and unfair. I mean, fashion changes lives, it impacts the world in a huge way. It's how one can express themselves; show their joy or fear, their happiness or sadness.

Little did I know, walking down the street that day with my friend, that I was ALREADY doing that. Just not on my terms.

So I left, I left him. I left my heart bleeding and beating in his hands. It's more than just apart of me, it feels like my skin is gone. They call the skin the immune system's first line of defense, and it feels like it is gone. We were so close, so tightly wound around one another- dancing to our own music- that it was hard to notice. How lost I felt without him, literally losing sight of everything.

Sometimes I thought he felt the same way.

But I digress, back to the street. Like I said this was the place that I finally confessed to myself and my friend that fashion was not what I wanted. Again, my friend, he is the type of person that holds very little back. He says out loud what people are thinking. So when he said, "I know there's only one man for you."

Of course I began to analyze it, dissect it. So before we parted ways I just had to ask him what he meant.

He gave me a funny look, just staring at me for a moment and then said, "Seriously B? I thought you'd figured out a long time ago that he was the reason you clung so tightly to Mode?"

I assumed he was talking about my first love, and just shook my head.

Now I realize he was talking about_ him_.

I've always felt like I needed to stick around, stay close to take care of him. Since the beginning it's been me and him against the world. Sort of like Bonnie and Clyde, without the guns and violence of course. Well, most of the time anyway.

I have everything I could ever have wanted, but I still feel lost.

Damn him.

Sometimes I wonder what my life would've been like if I wouldn't have gone back to Meade after the first time I quit. I wonder how things would be if I would have just refused him right then and there and asked for a reference. Maybe I would've gotten a job somewhere else, another magazine or newspaper. I would've worked my way up, taken some extra classes at City College, done the Y.E.T.I. I seriously doubt my path would have been so extremely altered. I'd probably still be fashion challenged. Maybe I'd be married by now? Happy perhaps?

I can't blame the path I chose to walk for taking anything away from me. It gave me so much, at the very least I know what it feels like to love someone more than you love yourself, to be unselfish and unwavering in your loyalty to them.

I know all these things, so for that I cannot regret my choices.

* * *

><p>Betty published her her latest blog entry. She glanced at the clock and sighed. She'd been here for two weeks almost and was finding it hard to believe that nothing had changed. She had cried her eyes out, until she was sure that dehydrated. With Henry, she had been halfway over the break up after the first week. But now, she just felt empty.<p>

The light on her skype began to blink and then she heard the telltale sign of someone calling her. Seeing that it was Amanda, she accepted the call.

She could hear Amanda talking before she could see her.

"Hey Miss B! How's our London girl doing?" Amanda said loudly.

Betty laughed at her friend's antics. Suddenly a freeze frame of Amanda fist pumping appeared on the screen, and then the image jumped to her smiling face.

"Mmmm, hey Betty boop", she said sensuously.

"Hey Amanda", Betty said exasperated already.

"So, I was just calling to make sure you haven't killed yourself yet"

"What? Amanda I am not going to kill myself, I'm just sad."

"You can call him you know."

"Call who?"

"You know who! He-who-shall-not-be-named! That's who, just call him. Or come home and jump his bones, put us all out of our misery."

Betty stared down at her hands, feeling a ball of uncertainty form in her throat.

"He doesn't want me like that Amanda", she whispered.

"Please Betty! That man used to check you out daily, your ass especially!" Amanda all but screamed into her computer.

Betty scoffed, " Then why didn't he do anything about it? This is Daniel Meade we are talking about. He is not shy."

"He is when it comes to you Betty!", Amanda said gently, "It was like he was scared to, or felt like he wasn't good enough for you or something..."

Betty's mouth fell open in shock.

"Amanda please, we both know that's not true. How would I look on Daniel's arm? You were the one that always called us Beauty and Beast."

"I know I did, and I'm sorry for that", Amanda said with just a note of desperation in her voice, "I did it because I was jealous of you, the way he stared at you. It was like you had this...spell over him almost from the beginning."

Betty sat in silence, trying to absorb all that Amanda was saying. She just couldn't believe it, she felt like maybe Amanda was trying to play a joke on her.

"I've got to Amanda, please send my love to everyone. Bye!" she closed the call before Amanda could get another word in edgewise.


	6. Chapter 6

April 24, 2010

A Brown haired Blue eyed girl

My building is full of interesting people. I live in a part of London that is not completely upper crust while at the same time being not completely lower crust. We all are all caught somewhere in the middle.

We are entry level business men, single parent families, struggling poets, artists and writers.

The most interesting person in this building is this little girl. I see her everyday, sitting outside of her apartment. She has a quiet demeanor, but large wise intelligent eyes. These eyes, they cut right through me. So deep and blue. This color of the deepest untouched ocean. Her hair is long and dark, reaching the middle of her back. This girl, this young, beautiful wise girl reminds me of me.

Though her eyes are all that I described; wise, beautiful and intelligent, they are hidden behind un-stylish eyeglasses. Her hair is a long, thick fall of beautiful chocolate silk, but it is unruly. It has no overtly stylish curls. Her face, though pretty in it's own right is without make-up. Her clothes are baggy on her frame. Her mouth is always set in serious worried line.

This little girl (okay maybe she is more like a teenager) could be my ghost of Christmas past.

I never deign to speak with her, in fact, I have only once made eye contact with her. My eyes bounced off of hers, quickly looking away. For two weeks I have walked by this girl on my way home from the office. I was usually so sleep deprived and depressed that I barely noticed her, but as the days went on I began to notice more and more about her.

Today, I stopped to talk with her.

At first the conversation was tentative, I asked her questions and she answered. I noticed a few more things about her, she spoke with a slight lisp, her accent was distinctly British but with undertones of something else. Her voice was light but sharp, she didn't seem too wary of me, just not as a responsive as I would have liked.

And then she began questioning me. She wanted to know everything about me and I found myself telling this little woman child (turns out she is actually 17 years old and a college student, hardly the little girl I believed her to be) my story.

My entire story; my life growing up, my life during college, my life during Mode. I could feel her small hand on mine when I began speaking about him, and once I started talking I could not stop. When I looked up I could only see compassion and understanding in her eyes.

And then she started telling me her story. Her time as a girl in her north African country of Tunisia, about growing up so poor that her mother had been forced to sell her when she was only 8 years old. She spoke of her descent into the bowels of sexual slavery, and her ultimate escape. I wanted to hold this girl, rock her, show her that world is both beautiful and cruel; compassionate and mean. Through her story I was able to see that she already knew that. I can only say that I am honored to live so closely to someone so brave.

Her story will be featured in the launch of Spark, so stay tuned.

You know what is strange? Discovering who you aren't. That sounds strange doesn't it? The possibility of discovering that you are not at all the person that you were.

For instance, I have always believed myself to be an unselfish person, capable of boundless friendship with the right people. Truly though, I am not that good of a friend. I've been faking it this whole time. I abandon the people I care about the most when they grow away from me, or do something that I do not approve of.

Maybe it is a defense mechanism, or maybe I'm just a really bad person deep down, but this is what I do. I left the best friend I have ever had at the hands of a quack when his world was crumbling around him and then told him I was beyond disappointed in him. The truth is, I was beyond disappointed in myself. He nearly lost his life that night, and no amount of crying on him hand at his hospital beside would take back what I'd done.

During the most difficult time in his life, when he lost the love of his life, I abandoned him again. All but handing him over to a con man and master manipulator and he nearly lost his life again. What sort of friend am I?

Is it any wonder that he would turn away from me at this point? He has always been more to me than I am to him; and even knowing that I still was a horrible friend to him.

So I deserve all of this-to know- how it felt. To be completely abandoned and left to pick up the pieces on my own.


	7. Chapter 7

April 25, 2010

In Reply- 3:00 AM

I am writing this posting for the specific purpose of replying to the rumors surrounding my blog.

First, everything I write here is the truth as I know it. These ramblings are from my perspective , mine only. If you, as a reader, do not agree with them then so be it.

Second, I _am _talking about specific people in my past. You can dig around and figure it out, or you can take it at face value. Whatever you want.

Third, yes Spark and my blog will be connected; however, these two things are not necessarily mutually exclusive. I do not write sensational personal things in my blog to create a stir for Spark. I write about things that I am passionate about at Spark, I allow those things into the magazine.

I write from my heart on my blog. Unfortunately, right now my heart is bleeding, broken and in need of mending. I am going to need time to work through it, to get over it, if I ever get over it. This is how I express myself. Yes I chose to do it in a public forum, but the readers are also making a choice to read it.

The commentary going on in the tabloids about my career with Meade publications is all false. I did NOT sleep my way to the top, my clothes were not a careful disguise to keep myself out of the public eye while I slept my way to the top, I was never secretly married to - or impregnated by ANY member of the Meade family. These people are my friends, I would never use them in anyway whatsoever.

For everything else, basically if you do not read it here, it is not true.

And yes my dear, dear super fashionably inclined brother; I WILL update my photo on this website.


	8. Chapter 8

April 26, 2010

Really, Daniel?- 11:30 AM

I am done, really, truly done dancing around my words. And for what? What am I protecting? Why should I care about protecting your name when YOU DON'T!

I know you read my blog, I know you are reading this right now. I am not upset that you walked away from everything, not in the least. If that is what you thought was best, then so be it. You were always intended for great things; I will always stand by that.

But really Daniel? Going missing for a whole week? Not answering your calls from anyone? Disappearing on a plane without so much as a goodbye to the people that love you?

Answer the phone! You are keeping up with me, I know that! I cannot believe that you are choosing to draw me out this way! Where are you? Stop pouting. We are worried, so worried that we are down to our last options.

Like this entry for instance.

Seriously, phone, email, text, facebook. You have a lot of options here: use one.

I am giving you 24 hours, and I am coming after you, so unless you want to be responsible for me losing my job I suggest you do one of the above!

* * *

><p>Betty posted THAT, and then began pacing back and forth in her office. Her concentration was shot for the day, there was no way she would be able to finish proofing these layouts; luckily though her EIC didn't expect anything from her until next week.<p>

She couldn't believe that he would just disappear? Just POOF! gone like the wind.

She was muttering to herself as she paced. Who did he think he was anyway? Here she was pining after him all this time and he was just gone.

She calmly sat down at her desk, ignoring her now continuously buzzing cell phone, and began checking plane prices back to New York.

He was probably just pouting in his apartment, as per usual, and she would have to swoop in and save him again.

She began to feel light headed and glanced at the clock, noting that it was way past lunch hour, she shut down her computer and grabbed her coat.

If she was going on a rescue mission, she would need to keep her strength up.


	9. Chapter 9

Ghost Buster's

April 30, 2010- 6:00 PM

Hello out there! Sorry for my short absence, but as I'm sure you all have read I have been dealing with life. So, where to begin? First I would just like to say for the first time in the history of Daniel Meade, the rags have gotten it right.

Yes, we are together. I can't help but smile as I type that, I am Daniel Meade's fiance. Yes! The pictures of us were NOT photoshop'd, those were very real. The kiss in Trafalgar Square, the slap outside of Dunne Publication, the pictures of the ring. Yes, all real.

Some of you that know me will think this is too fast, some of you that don't know me think I am a major gold digger. Guess what? I don't care what you think. I have him, he's mine and nothing short of him walking away from me will make me let him go.

And I am still smiling. I seriously can't stop giggling, much to the dismay of many of our friends. Apparently, we both have the same goofy grin. It can't be helped. I have absolutely never loved like this before, and I have absolutely never been loved like this before. I have never been the center of such intensity, hot and full of life like the sun, you are sure it will be a billion lifetimes before it burns out.

There have been many, many times in my life that I have been happy, but with that happiness came fear. Fear of the other shoe dropping, and dealing with the pain. But now, God now my fear is next to nothing, because I know that even if the other shoe drops I won't be alone. I'll have him, and he'll have me.

So I've decided to give all the Bettyheads out there a special treat (at least in my opinion), to hear from the man himself. I'm going to let Daniel take over, and write whatever the heck he wants to write.

**Daniel**

Slaying the dragon-

The title is kind of goofy, but what can I say a dragon seems more manly than a ghost. So what can I write here to please all of the Bettyheads out there? Haha, who am I kidding at this point we are ALL Bettyheads, I mean how could you not be?

She is right you know, my cheeks are hurting I am smiling so much. I am so proud and LUCKY and just happy to have this woman in my life. She is amazing, but I don't have to tell you that, I'm pretty sure you already know.

I suppose my behavior of the last two weeks could be explained away with an excuse like, I just couldn't stand to see her go. I won't do that to you. I'll give you the truth.

And it is this. Sometimes in life, in order to be ready for your fate you have to push away other demons, other ghosts. In the last four years I have come a long way to become the type of man that Betty deserves, still though, two weeks ago I wasn't there. I wasn't ready, but sometimes in life you have to push past fears and make yourself ready.

So that is what I did.

I am so lucky that all she delivered was a slap across the face for my disappearing act, I am also lucky I managed to read her last blog entry in time to intercept her rescue mission. The proposal that followed that slap was-honestly I don't know what that was. I just knew that all my plans flew out the window, everything just became black and white and it was only us and I had to ask. Not because I was trying to placate her, or out of desperation; I just HAD to ask. It was like I couldn't stop the words from coming out of my mouth, or my hand from reaching for the ring in my pocket. And though I should certainly have been shocked at her answer of "Yes", I was not. I was just suffused with this overwhelming sense of being exactly where I was supposed to be.

I know that my friends that know me probably think I have lost my mind, and people that don't know me think I am just looking to replace something I lost. I don't care. I have her, she's mine and nothing short of death is going to make me leave her side.


End file.
